


Echopraxia

by BisexualHannibalLecter



Series: Best Possible World [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Coma, Episode: s03e04 Aperitivo, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Pining, Post-Episode: s02e07 Yakimono, Post-Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Slow Burn, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23382658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisexualHannibalLecter/pseuds/BisexualHannibalLecter
Summary: Echopraxia(noun)Imitation of the movements of others."You had encephalitis. Not sure what my excuse was.""Compulsive imitation."-Dr. Frederick Chilton and Will Graham, s03e04,AperitivoSequel toExclusive Care
Relationships: Dr. Frederick Chilton & Will Graham, Dr. Frederick Chilton/Will Graham
Series: Best Possible World [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646668
Comments: 16
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the first chapter of part 2! I have chapter two finished already, and I'm halfway through chapter 3. I'll start working on the third installation of this series soon.
> 
> In case there's any confusion, this picks up after Chilton gets shot in the face in s02e07 Yakimono.

Will had not expected today to go so far off track. As of that morning, his plans were to get a haircut, get some decent clothes, and go to dinner with Frederick Chilton. Said plans had since evolved into sitting half-asleep in a waiting room as doctors operated on Chilton. 

He feels  _ guilty _ . He feels like if he had been there, he could’ve stopped Miriam. He knows that isn’t true, that there’s nothing he could’ve done, but he can’t shake the remorse he feels over visiting Hannibal instead of sitting in on Chilton’s interrogation. He can’t pin down where the sense of guilt is coming from, and that bothers him almost as much as the guilt itself.

He isn’t sure what time he fell asleep. All he knows is that it’s morning when he wakes up, and the sun is shining through the glass windows in the waiting room. A nurse taps him on the shoulder again, and he groans.

“Will Graham?” he asks.

Will nods. “Yeah.” He tries to remember what he’s doing here. He’s surprised to find that he isn’t sweating through his clothes.

“You’re here to see Frederick Chilton? I have an update on his condition. Are you family?” 

Will shakes his head and flashes his temporary badge. He still can’t believe Jack gave it back to him. “FBI. I’m supposed to check on him due to the, uh, circumstances of his wounds. I also need to question him, is he awake?” 

Most of that is a lie, but he doesn’t quite care. Lying to check on Chilton is worth it, and his deceptions aren’t going to harm anyone.

The nurse shakes his head. “He woke up a couple of hours after surgery, but we had to sedate him.”

Will’s brows furrow. “Sedate him? For what?”

The nurse frowns and looks around the waiting room, before pulling Will into another hallway for privacy.

“Mr. Chilton was in withdrawal when he woke up. He wasn’t very agreeable, and he was in a lot of pain, so the doctor sedated him. He should wake up again sometime tonight or tomorrow. I recommend you come back tomorrow afternoon. I apologize if this impedes your investigation.”

Will shakes his head. “Not at all. Thank you for your help, I’ll be back tomorrow.” As the nurse begins to leave, Will asks, “What was the withdrawal from?”

The nurse looks down at the chart in his hands. “Blood and urine tests determined that Mr. Chilton had high levels of alcohol in his system upon admittance.”

Will swallows. He’d had his suspicions, but the confirmation only added to his unease and anxiety.

“Thank you,” he replies, suddenly not in the mood to even fake an interest in conversation.

The nurse nods and goes on his way, leaving Will alone in the hallway. He considers sneaking his way through the hospital and finding Chilton. After several seconds of deliberation, he turns and leaves, pulling his phone out to call Jack.

* * *

Will returns the next evening, and the guilt follows him all the way to the hospital. He can feel it clinging to him as he follows a nurse down the hall. He can feel it weigh him down as he steps into Chilton’s room and sees him lying there, bandages covering most of his head.

“Why isn’t he awake?” Will asks. “The other nurse said he’d be up by now.”

The nurse that led him to Chilton shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but he should be along any time now. If you’d like to wait in his room, you can.”

Will grabs a chair and drags it to Chilton’s bedside. “Thank you,” he says, taking his seat. He sighs when he hears the door close behind her.

The steady beat of Chilton’s heart monitor lulls Will to sleep after nearly an hour of checking his phone and waiting. He awakens to the sound of the door opening and rubs his eyes, squinting at the harshness of the fluorescent lights.

“You’re awfully persistent,” a man says.

Will turns to look behind him, seeing a doctor approaching Chilton’s bed. He looks at his coat, taking note of the name stitched into the fabric.  _ B. Fuller. _

“What do you mean?” Will asks, pulling his phone out. He checks the time. It’s been nearly four hours since he got to the hospital.

“I saw you yesterday. You were in the waiting room all night, and now you’ve come back, only to fall asleep in his room. You must really want to see him when he wakes up.”

“I need to speak with him,” Will insists, stomach fluttering at what the doctor may or may not be implying.

“I don’t see how you’ll be getting any words out of him,” the doctor replies, picking the chart up and scribbling a few things down.

Will raises a brow. “Why’s that?”

The doctor gestures to Chilton with his pen. “His jaw is wired shut. He won’t be doing any talking until further into his recovery.”

“The nurse I spoke with yesterday didn’t mention that.”

Doctor Fuller chuckles. “You may have spoken with our newest nurse. He tends to leave out important details when informing friends and family. He’s going to get us sued one day.” He hums. “I can have someone fetch a notepad and a pen for you, though, when he wakes.”

Will nods. “Thank you.” He fiddles with his hands for a moment. “Why isn’t he awake yet?”

“Some people take longer to wake up than others. I wouldn’t worry too much.” The doctor smiles. “I can’t promise you his recovery will be full. We’re still not entirely sure whether or not bone fragments are in his brain. He’s very lucky to be alive in the first place. Had the bullet been even a millimeter higher, he may not have lived.”

Will swallows. “Thank God for perfect aim, I suppose.” He stands. “I’ll be right back.”

Will leaves the room and heads down the hall to the restroom. As soon as he’s done relieving himself, he steps out to call Jack.

“Doctors said there isn’t much to worry about,” he tells Jack. “He’ll live, and he should be up soon. But he said he can’t promise that Chilton will make a full recovery.”

“Recovery from what? Psychological trauma?” Jack asks.

Will bites his lip. “They think he may have brain damage. They’re not sure yet.”

“They poked around in his head all fucking night. How the fuck don’t they know?”

“I’m not a doctor, Jack. Listen, I’ll go ask, I’ll keep you updated.”

“Good. Thanks, Will.” There’s a pause. “Why are you doing this?”

Will’s head snaps up. He stares at the wall, as if Jack is standing there in front of him, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He feels like Jack can see the expression on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“Checking in on Chilton. He was an asshole to you before Baltimore State, and I’m sure he was an even bigger asshole while you were being held there. What’s your angle on this, Will?”

Will swallows. “Call it professional curiosity,” he replies.

Jack scoffs. “Do any of you give straight answers anymore?” He sighs. “Just keep me in the loop. Text me if it isn’t urgent, I’m having a night in with Bella.”

“Will do. Bye, Jack.”

He hangs up and heads back to Chilton’s hospital room. He’s shocked to see a couple of nurses in there with the doctor.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

The doctor looks up and remorse crosses his face. Will’s heart drops. The steady beat of the heart monitor picks it back up.

“We have to move him,” Doctor Fuller says. “To another ward.”

“For what reason?” Will asks, his own heart rate picking up.

“We have a separate area in this hospital for coma patients.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t gone but  _ fifteen minutes. _ You told me not to worry!” Will replies, feeling anger bubble up to the surface. It burns right through his tiredness and his indifference and his guilt in an instant.

“I was wrong to say that,” Doctor Fuller admits. “Just calm down. You can visit him again after we’ve moved him.”

Will snatches his jacket off the back of the plastic chair, and the force knocks it right over. He storms out of the room and all the way out of the hospital. Only then does he catch his breath, leaning back against the building.

“Fuck,” he whispers, feeling a headache coming on. “Fucking  _ damn it. _ ” Will pushes himself away from the wall and heads to his car, telling himself he won’t be back until Chilton wakes up.

He finds himself walking into the hospital again the very next evening.

And the evening after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if anyone caught the little easter egg I threw in, but Dr. B. Fuller is a reference to the writer and developer of the Hannibal television series, Bryan Fuller!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chilton wakes up from his coma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, y'all

The first thing Chilton hears about when he wakes up is the fate of Abigail Hobbs.

“ —one fatality. Abigail Hobbs,” Jack says into his phone. “Yes, the girl we thought Graham killed. Hannibal kept her alive.” He pauses for a moment. “Must’ve cut it off just to frame Will. Got rid of her when he didn’t need her anymore. She was D.O.A., there was nothing anyone could do. Price said no one could’ve saved her from that injury a second time.” He pauses again. “In surgery at Hopkins. I’m at Union Memorial waiting for Chilton to wake up.” Another pause, and Jack grumbles something. “I’m being taken care of. I was admitted three hours ago. I’m stable, I’m lucid, they’re letting me walk around— I’m  _ fine _ .”

Chilton groans, partially to signal that he is, in fact, awake, and partially because he feels like he has a splitting headache. The last thing he can remember is hearing glass shatter and something hitting him. A sharp burst of pain, and then it all went dark. He opens his eyes, only to find that a patch is covering his right eye. His other eye is blurry, adjusting to the fluorescent lighting in the room.

“He’s up. I’ll call you back.” Jack hangs up and sets his phone aside. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I got shot,” Chilton rasps, words a bit slurred. His mouth doesn’t feel right. “And then hit by a bus.”

“You did get shot. When you passed out, you fell over in your chair while handcuffed just hard enough to dislocate your left shoulder.” Jack grimaces. “You were rushed to surgery and your jaw had to be wired shut.” He swallows, looking like he has more to say, but he moves on. “The bullet passed just under your brain. Doctors called it a miracle.”

“Jack,” Chilton says. “Why does my mouth feel weird?”

Jack sighs. “Bullet shattered your cheekbone. The surgeon was surprised there weren’t more bone fragments. It took a few teeth with it, and the surgeons had to remove a few more to operate.”

Horrified, Chilton moves his tongue, feeling his teeth on the right side of his mouth. As he reaches the left side, the feeling of tongue on teeth disappears. It’s jarring to run his tongue against his healing gums. He hasn’t done this since his wisdom teeth were cut out. That had been necessary, but this felt like yet another indignity in a long list of what he’d suffered in the past year.

He begins to wonder what is wrong with his eye. The thought makes him break out in a cold sweat, so he decides to distract himself.

“I heard you talking about Abigail Hobbs,” he says, clearing his throat. “I thought Will killed her six weeks ago.”

Jack frowns. “Lecter had been keeping her alive. We believe he may have been brainwashing her like he brainwashed Miriam Lass, but we don’t know. Alana isn’t talking, and Will isn’t awake yet.”

Chilton’s heart stops. “What do you mean he isn’t awake yet?”

“He was in surgery for most of the night and into the morning yesterday. Lecter tried to gut him after he slashed Abigail Hobbs’s throat and left them both for dead on his kitchen floor. Will and I were going to catch Lecter last night, but he outsmarted us.” Jack turns his head, showing Chilton the large patch that the bandages on his neck are wrapped around. “He tried to kill me, too. I was taken to the same hospital as Will, but as soon as I woke up I had myself transferred.  _ FBI’s orders. _ ”

Chilton rolls his eyes. “Why here?”

“I don’t owe you any of this news, Chilton, but I thought you would appreciate it. At least a bit more than this.”

“I would appreciate if your trainee hadn’t shot me in the fucking face,” Chilton snaps. “I would appreciate it if I had been treated as the innocent man I was. I would  _ appreciate _ if you had half the fucking brain Will did, or had at least  _ listened _ to him. He saw through Hannibal before anybody else, and all of the suffering that he’s caused since Will first told you he was the Ripper is on  _ your _ head.”

Jack keeps himself composed. “Yeah,” he says, laughing bitterly. “I was stupid and lazy, wasn’t I? You did so much to facilitate Hannibal’s capture and proof of guilt. You really worked hard to prove he was the Ripper while getting wasted. You busted your ass going through bottle after bottle of liquor while I just let him walk. Must’ve been a ton of work, I can’t imagine how many nights it kept you up.”

Chilton can feel his face growing hot, shame and anger building. “You have no right to accuse me of such things, especially after you chased me with a gun through the woods over a false assumption! That’s been, what, two days ago?”

“It was nearly  _ six weeks ago _ , Chilton!” Jack yells. “Miriam shot you six fucking weeks ago!”

Chilton freezes. “But…That doesn’t make any sense. I don’t remember…”

Jack sighs deeply and drags a hand down his face. “You were rushed to the hospital after Miriam shot you. You were in surgery for God knows how many hours, and when you came to, you were a goddamn  _ nightmare _ .” Jack fiddles with his hands in his lap. “The doctors had to sedate you because you were in alcohol withdrawal and you were losing your mind. You slipped into a coma the next day, and you were comatose for well over five weeks. They told me you probably wouldn’t remember waking up after surgery, and that you would be waking up any day now.” Jack starts to get up. “You’re up now, and you’ve been filled in, so I’ll go. I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Wait,” Chilton says. “What about…my eye? Is…Will I be able to see when they take this patch off?”

Jack shakes his head. “Doctors said something bone fragments and optic nerves— I was still coming down from the morphine when they explained it to me. I’m sorry, Chilton.”

Chilton swallows. “When is Will going to wake up?”

“Doctors said he should wake up some time today, but he’ll be in the hospital on bedrest for a couple of weeks at least.”

Chilton nods. “Okay. Thank you, Jack, for checking on me. I’m sorry that I was an asshole.”

Jack shrugs. “Sorry my trainee shot you in the fucking face,” he replies.

Chilton snorts, and Jack breaks out into a grin. They both laugh, and Jack winces, putting a hand to his neck.

“I’m going to go back to my room,” Jack says. “I'll let you know when Will wakes up.”

“Thanks. Could you tell a nurse I’m up on your way out?” 

“Of course.”

Jack shuffles out of Chilton’s room, and soon after a nurse enters, asking him how he’s feeling.

“Like I got shot and then fell into an alcohol detox coma,” he replies, gaining a laugh from the nurse. “When can I leave?”

“We’ll need to keep you under observation for forty-eight hours. Hospital policy,” she says. “In the meantime, we can discuss Baltimore’s AA program, if you’d like.”

Chilton looks away from her, his mood dampened substantially. “Can that be after I have something to eat? I’m starving.”

The nurse nods. “Yes, of course.”

Chilton stares up at the white ceiling, wondering if he can take the next forty-eight hours away from Will. The hospital food certainly doesn’t make his stay any more bearable, but the thought that Will is alive and well comforts him.

Maybe his first good meal outside of the hospital can be his date with Will. He can’t wait to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check my blog on Tumblr @jacqueswrites for more!
> 
> Also, if you have a Discord, I have Hannibal fan server! The link can be found on my writing blog as well!
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chilton visits Will in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this longer-than-usual chapter and the conclusion to this part of the series!
> 
> I am very sad to say that I won't be posting chapter one of the next installment until next month, as **I am taking a 6 week long hiatus starting on Monday**. I am doing this so that I can spend most of my time focusing on my online classes, as I have 2 credits to complete before I am an official high school graduate, and my school has only recently reached out to me about their plans to provide supplemental work online due to the COVID-19 quarantine.
> 
> Just to clarify, **this hiatus of mine will be lasting from Monday, April 13th until Friday, May 22nd**! I will begin posting fics again the following week, including the next installment of this series. I will continue to write during my spare time over these six weeks, so if you would like updates or you want to ask me anything, feel free to hit me up on **Tumblr @jacqueswrites** or on **Discord @baby mongoose#6953**!

Chilton goes to visit Will the same day he is released from the hospital. 

Jack had called him the day before to let him know Will was awake and responsive, and Chilton had taken several moments to be silently elated before being pulled back into the conversation by Jack, asking him about his condition. He told Jack that he was as okay as he could be, everything considered, and thanked him for the call.

He sits in his car for several minutes after parking at the hospital, feeling his nerves buzz. He wonders if Will would even want to see him in the first place. Would Will care that he had come to visit? Would he remember their plans before all of this? Had there really been a spark that day before it had all gone to Hell, or had it all been in his head. Had Will even planned to have dinner with him that night? Was he secretly thankful for Chilton’s hospitalization?

Chilton is once again pulled from his thoughts by Jack, or rather by his phone ringing loudly and bearing Jack’s caller ID. He decides to answer.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Jack replies. “Are you out of the hospital yet?”

“Signed the release forms this morning. I’m actually on my way to see Will, could I call you back?”

“Yeah, sure. I hope you’re doing well, Chilton.”

Chilton hums, feeling the puckered scar under the layer of makeup he’s applied. “Jack,” he says suddenly. “How is Miriam?”

Jack swallows, quite audibly, and says, “Not well. She’s been in holding since the day she shot you. I tried to convince the Bureau to remand her back to the mental hospital she was staying in, but they didn’t listen to. Her case is still pending trial. The date is next month. The court was actually prepared to continue the case without you, but now that you've been released I imagine you’ll be summoned. You are the victim here, after all.”

_ You are the victim here, after all. _ The phrase puts a bad taste in mouth. He suffered, but he doesn’t feel like a victim. Not Miriam’s victim, at least. Miriam hadn’t meant to hurt him, she’d meant to kill the Chesapeake Ripper.

“I want to testify,” Chilton says.

“Chilton, I-”

The worry is so obvious in Jack’s tone that Chilton knows exactly what Jack is assuming.

“Not against Miriam,” he interrupts. “For her.”

Jack is silent for a while. “She shot you,” he finally says.

“She shot me, and I’m bitter, and I’m angry; I lost my eye, I lost teeth, my cheekbone was shattered, I was comatose for several weeks, I dislocated my shoulder, and I almost fucking died. I understand that, Jack. But what I also understand is that I’m not the only one who lost something. Miriam lost an arm, her sanity, and two years of her life to a psychopathic serial killer who kept her in a filthy hole in the ground and mentally abused her until she confidently and convincingly identified an innocent man as her captor. She doesn’t deserve to be condemned. She doesn’t deserve prison. She deserves and  _ needs _ psychological help. And if my testimony can help her get that instead of jail time, then I will gladly provide it.”

Jack clears his throat. “Thank you, Frederick. This is going to mean the world to her, you know?”

“Just her?” Chilton asks, a slight teasing lilt to his voice.

“I was reckless with Miriam, and I was reckless with Will,” Jack admits. “I blame myself for their suffering even when I’m not responsible. But I blame myself more with Miriam, I’ll admit. She was just a trainee, and…”

Chilton can tell Jack is getting choked up, so for both of their sakes, he says, “I know. I know, Jack. Listen, I’m in the parking lot, so I’m going to go in to see Will now. I’ll call you back later.” He pauses for a moment, then suggests, “You should try and relax if you can. It gets harder before it gets easier.”

Jack lets out a bitter laugh. “Tell me about it. I’ll talk to you later, Frederick.”

“Talk to you later, Jack.” He hangs up and steps out of his car, fiddling with his phone as he heads to the entrance of the hospital.

His nerves continue to eat away at him, even up until he’s standing at the door to Will’s hospital room. He swallows and pushes the door open, nearly running into a nurse. The stitching on his shirt pocket reads  _ R. Armitage. _

Chilton quickly apologizes, and the nurse waves his hand. “Don’t worry about it. No harm, no foul. I’m guessing you’re here for Mr. Graham.”

Chilton nods, and the nurse steps out of Will’s room, allowing Chilton to pass by.

“He’s asleep,” Nurse Armitage says. “Should be up soon, though. Just some normal post-surgery grogginess. Being gutted probably didn’t help.”

Chilton ignores the nurse’s poor attempt at a joke and simply nods in response before shutting the door behind him. He takes a seat next to Will’s bed, and his nerves begin to dissipate, his pulse slowing until it eventually matches the soft beep of Will’s heart monitor.

He isn’t entirely sure what possesses him to reach for Will’s hand. Or rather, he doesn’t want to acknowledge it.

Will’s hand is warm. His fingers are calloused, and his knuckles are scarred, and there’s still blood under his fingernails. Chilton’s only complaint is that Will’s hand isn’t holding his own just as tightly.

Out of nowhere, Chilton’s wish is seemingly granted, as Will’s hand suddenly clenches around Chilton’s. His head snaps up, and he catches Will just barely beginning to open his eyes.

“Will?” he whispers softly, squeezing his hand.

Will turns his head, squinting in the harsh light of both the sun and the overhead fluorescent lights. “Frederick?” he asks, voice rough and strained, probably both from sleep and pain. “What…”

Without warning, the machines connected to Will begin going haywire, indicating a severe fluctuation in his pulse and blood pressure. Will groans and his eyes roll back into his head before he passes out, Chilton shouting his name to no avail.

It’s only seconds before medical personnel rush in, one woman pulling Chilton away from Will and telling him he has to go. He overhears another person say Will is bleeding internally, and Chilton nearly throws up on the spot, sick with worry.

He doesn’t even hear the woman as she tries to calm him and asks if she can help. All he can hear is the blood roaring in his ears and his own heavy breathing. The feeling of nausea returns full-force, and he pushes past the woman, heading for the bathroom and vomiting in the first stall he makes it to.

All he can think about is Will dying- about  _ him _ surviving a bullet to the face, but Will dying from a surgical cut to his abdomen. He wretches again, but nothing comes out.

He tries to be optimistic, and then he tries to think of something else altogether, but his first thought is how badly he could use a drink. For a moment he seriously considers going home to open one of his various bottles of liquor, and then he remembers where he is.

He gets off his knees and exits the stall, going to the sink and washing his face off. He rinses his mouth, and he can still taste bile, but it’s better than it was before. He leaves the bathroom, thankful that no one was present to see him like that, and leaves the hospital. 

As he climbs back into his car, he takes his phone out and dials Jack’s number.

“Hey,” he says into the phone, sniffling a bit. “We need to talk. Can I come by? This is going to take a while.”

* * *

Chilton is on his feet the moment he hears that Will Graham is awake and responsive. He’s been waiting anxiously to hear if Will is okay since his last visit, and the affirmation that he is relieves Chilton beyond measure. It does nothing to make him a patient man, though, not by any means.

He stops on his way to the hospital (a terrible thing, really, he couldn’t stand to prolong his visit) and buys flowers. It seemed a bit cheesy, but at least if the romanticism of the gesture fell through, Chilton could fall back on the fact that it was a common get-well gift.

Any bit of confidence Chilton built on the way to the hospital is destroyed the moment he walks into Will’s room. He locks eyes with the other man, and he sees sorrow and disappointment. He can understand why. He knows how close Will was with Abigail, and how much it hurt him to think he had been the one to kill her.

“Hello, Frederick,” Will says, voice rough with sleep and disuse.

Chilton walks closer to the bed, trying to smile. “Were you expecting someone else?” he asks.

Will looks away from him. “I was hoping for someone else,” he replies.

There is no spark of happiness in his eyes, and it makes Chilton feel guilty, almost as if he had been the one to kill Abigail. He takes a seat next to Will’s bed and sets the flowers on the table. He offers Will his hand, but Will doesn’t take it, so he clears his throat and keeps talking.

He’s just running his mouth, really. He’s unsure of how else to fill the time or fend off the inevitable awkward silence that is sure to ensue.

Somehow they always roll back around to the subject of Hannibal Lecter, the man responsible for nearly every bit of pain in their lives in the past year.

“I can help you get Hannibal Lecter out of your head,” Chilton offers. He hopes that statement doesn’t come off inappropriately, but there’s a glint in Will’s eye, and Chilton can see that Will must have assumed a double meaning.

He doesn’t address it, though. He simply replies, “And into your hospital.”

“As good a place for him as any,” Chilton says. “Of course, it would be preferable to study him in his natural habitat.”

“I doubt you’re the psychiatrist he would afford that opportunity to.”

“There is an opportunity here. For both of us,” Chilton insists. “We can catch the man who framed and maimed us.” Something about catching Hannibal  _ with _ Will feels right. Perhaps it’s just the part about being with Will more so than enacting revenge.

Will only shakes his head. “There's no opportunity there, Frederick. Not for you.”

Chilton’s heart breaks at that. It feels like a rejection. He almost gets up to leave, but he pushes onward.

“The optimist believes we live in the best of all possible worlds. The pessimist fears this is true. This is your best possible world, Will. Not getting a better one.”

Will smiles at him. “You’re quite fond of interrupting people, aren’t you?” he teases. “I wasn’t finished.”

Chilton blinks, surprised by Will’s change in demeanor.

“There is no opportunity for you here. Not with Hannibal.” Will reaches over to take Chilton’s hand. “With me, however… That is certainly a different story.”

Chilton only stares back, wide-eyed and silent.

Will chuckles. “I believe you still owe me dinner, Frederick.”

Chilton smiles. “I believe you’re correct. Doctor said you can be discharged in four days. I can take you out to dinner the following night if you’d like.”

Will squeezes his hand. “Sounds lovely.”

Chilton squeezes back. Perhaps there’s more opportunity here with Will than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone catch the easter egg in the chapter? Comment below if you think you know what reference I hid in this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story please leave a kudos! Comments are super appreciated! If you want to find/follow/friend me on other platforms, here are my usernames! Don’t be shy! 
> 
> @bisexywill on Tumblr (Main Blog)  
> @bisexual-hannibal-lecter on Tumblr (Writing Blog)  
> @bisexywill on Twitter (Writing Updates & Stuff)  
> @baby mongoose#6953 on Discord


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